


Giving it a Shot

by YoureMySunshine



Series: The List [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 years of Confusion, But lots of sex talk, Crack, Demisexuality, Doctors & Physicians, Drug reference, Historical Doctors - Freeform, Humor, Humours, Humours aren't real, M/M, Medical History, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Kink, Neither is cocaine as medicine, No Smut, They can't figure it out, inspired by Sawbones, my bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoureMySunshine/pseuds/YoureMySunshine
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley attempt Doctor Kink, but can't agree on what century of Doctor they're looking at.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The List [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842034
Comments: 24
Kudos: 36





	Giving it a Shot

They had a list.

Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had ever dabbled in “physical intimacy” with any humans, only wanting to be with each other. For both of them, attraction happened only after several millennia spent being friends, and they didn’t act on this attraction until after the Almost-geddon. This meant, as Aziraphale pointed out, that they didn’t know what they liked in the bedroom. There might be all sorts of kinks that appealed to them that they had never considered; and the humans were so wonderfully creative, some common human kinks seemed like a good place to start.

Fortunately, the sex shop next door had a wide array of toys, and some very helpful salespeople who were so happy that “Mr. Fell” had finally made a move on his “sunglasses person.” So, together, Aziraphale and Crowley had come up with a list of things to try out. Today, it was Medical Kink.

God help them both. (She had already helped them as much as she could. This was up to them now).

* * *

Aziraphale sat in the “waiting room” of Crowley’s flat. When they had planned this scene, it was understood that Crowley’s bare flat was more “medical” than Aziraphale’s crowded backroom. Crowley also expressed interest in playing the doctor. After all, he liked taking care of Aziraphale, and doctors were caring people, weren’t they?

Wearing scrubs, Crowley opened the door of the repurposed throne room, now full of shiny surfaces. (His examination room was based off a medical drama he had binged in anticipation of this event). Crowley called out, “Mr. Fell, I will see you now.”

Aziraphale walked inside, suddenly rather anxious. He had never been to a doctor before.

“Now Mr. Fell, how have you been feeling?” asked Crowley.

“Oh. I’ve been just fine, Doctor. A little nervous, but that’s nothing new, just under some pressure,” stammered Aziraphale.

“Nerves can be very detrimental to your health. Why don’t you lie down on the table and I’ll see if there’s anything wrong, and try to relieve that pressure,” said Crowley, trying to imbue the word “relieve” with some sensuality. As Aziraphale laid down, Crowley replayed the words. Nerves were bad for people’s health – that had been his whole job as a demon, making people feel worse. Maybe Aziraphale really didn’t feel well.

Ignoring the fact that Aziraphale’s heart didn’t actually need to beat, Crowley listened to his heart. “Sounds, ah, good to me,” He said, unsure what a normal heartbeat sounded like. Surely Aziraphale’s was fine, right? (It was beating about once every 10 seconds, which was not normal, but neither of them knew that).

Crowley thought about what to do next. What had Pliny said to do about nerves? Something about eating fish? Aziraphale ate plenty of fish. Wait, Pliny thought fish didn’t have any nerves. Thinking again, he was probably wrong about everything. Who was more modern than Pliny the Elder?

“Um, Mr. Fell, do you eat food that’s very flavorful?” Crowley asked. As soon as he said the words, he winced, realizing this was an obvious question.

Aziraphale wiggled. “Yes, I had the most _scrumptious_ dinner last night with lovely company. Why do you ask?”

“Ngk. Ah. No reason.” Sylvester Graham, John Kellogg, and James Henry Salisbury could all roll in their graves, Crowley wasn’t going to mention their ideas about diet to his Angel. Honey and chocolate had been used as medicines, anyway. He decided to move this in a more physical direction.

“Now to soothe your nerves I’ll… feel your head?” said Crowley hesitantly. He couldn’t remember if phrenology was disproven or not, but head massages were always a solid start.

The massage turned into Aziraphale falling asleep, and “Doctor Crowley” being late for his next appointment. Aziraphale woke up feeling delightfully refreshed.

* * *

The next day, they discussed what they liked and didn’t like over coffee. Crowley started it off, saying “I think that medical kink might not be for me, Angel.”

Aziraphale responded, “That’s fine, dear. What didn’t you like?” Part of their routine was figuring out what worked and didn’t after the fact, so they could avoid repeating any mishaps.

“I didn’t like having to make decisions. I didn’t know what to do, and it made me a bit worried,” said Crowley.

“Thank you for telling me, Crowley. I did feel much more relaxed afterwards. I’d like to add massage to list of 'things we like,' if that’s ok with you?”

“Oh yes, once I got to the massage that was nice. You were delicious laid out for me, Angel. I wonder though… maybe if you played the doctor, I would feel better. I could be a seductive patient, and you’ll have to make any medical decisions,” suggested Crowley.

“Alright, we can try again with me as the doctor. I’ll read up a bit so I know what to say. What fun!”

* * *

The enterprising reader might know that Aziraphale loved books. He read all the time. However, what he really loved was older texts, and books signed by his friends. And he unfortunately last made friends with doctors in the Elizabethan age. So, his reading wasn’t the most up-to-date medical information.

* * *

Crowley rapped on the bookshop door, which now had a sign saying **“Doktor Phell is in Resydence.”** Aziraphale answered it and Crowley jumped back in horror. “NO, Angel. ABSOLUTELY NOT! Plague doctor masks are a COMPLETE TURNOFF.”

* * *

The next day, Crowley knocked on the bookshop door once more. He and Aziraphale had discussed what they expected with a little more specificity. Aziraphale had accurately surmised that Crowley did not want him appearing in a bloodstained coat, as had been the fashion for a time, and they had settled on a plain white coat for his “costume.” Crowley was wearing a normal outfit, but one that was much less tight fitting and much easier to take off than his usual apparel. Aziraphale answered the door in his white coat. “Come in, Mr. Crowley, thank you for your punctuality.”

Crowley glared briefly at Aziraphale – bringing up virtues at a time like this? – and entered the shop. Aziraphale closed and locked the door behind them, and gestured Crowley over to sit on the couch.

“Now, what seems to be the trouble, Mr. Crowley?”

Crowley said, “Oh, well, I’ve just been feeling a little out-of-sorts, lately. I just thought it would be a good idea to get a checkup.” He smirked.

Aziraphale smiled back with professional distance. “Getting yearly checkups is a good idea. Now open your mouth.”

“Starting off strong, aren’t we?” Crowley said, opening his mouth impressively wide and winking. To his surprise, Aziraphale pulled out a tongue depressor and examined the back of his throat.

“Everything looks good here. Hmm. Now let’s check your ears – could you pull your hair out of the way? Thank you.” Aziraphale shined a penlight in Crowley’s ears. He then pulled out a small rubber hammer and began to check Crowley’s reflexes. This led to an embarrassing moment, as Crowley’s legs and nervous system weren’t properly connected. Furthermore, his bones were mostly made out of cartilage, making the whole examination just not work.

Recovering quickly, Aziraphale remembered one of the common treatments he’d read about. “Now tell me, Mr. Crowley, how much cocaine do you use? I can write you an excellent prescription if you are in need of any.”

Crowley slapped his hand to his head. “Angel that was the nineteenth century. It’s been disproven. Cocaine is bad for you. Let’s try again,” he said.

“Oh! Of course,” said Aziraphale, flustered. Eating mummies was probably out as a cure as well. “Would you stand up and touch your toes for me? I must check for scoliosis.”

“Ngk. Angel-”

“Dr. Fell, if you please.”

Crowley threw all caution to the winds, saying, “Dr. Fell. My spine really hasn’t been bothering me. I think I came here for help with a more… intimate issue.” Crowley winked desperately.

“Oh, I'm afraid that's quite outside my area of expertise. I'll have to refer you to another doctor,” said Aziraphale, scribbling on a clipboard that appeared out of nowhere. “Do you know if that will be covered by your insurance?”

“Insu- They have socialized medicine in this country Aziraphale.”

“Dr. Fell, please. And quite right. Now here’s the business card of the other doctor.” Aziraphale handed over a card identical to the one for his shop, but with a small caduceus in the corner instead of a book and quill. Crowley looked down at the card, then back up, and jumped in surprise at Aziraphale’s change into a differently-cut white coat.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Fell, and I’m a specialist for your every need.”

Aziraphale had realized that he was going nowhere in his previous persona, and had decided to change over to a different sort of doctor. Surely this method would work! “Now, tell me about your humours,” he said.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale in shock. Humours? Will had definitely talked about them, but that was 400 years ago. But it wasn’t like they had normal human corporations anyway, so Crowley figured he might as well go for it.

“Oh, Dr. Fell, my humours are so confused! I've usually been of a sanguine disposition but lately I feel so melancholic, I’m almost hysterical!” Crowley exclaimed, remembering something about hysteria treatments that he’d like to get into with his Angel.

"Hmm, very serious indeed. I'll have to act at once. Normally we would try bloodletting, but maybe we can let out a different fluid to clear your humours.”

_Yessss_ , thought Crowley. _I can work with this._ “Of course, I’m happy to provide any fluids you think would help,” he said with another wink.

Aziraphale pulled out an onion. “Now most people have trouble crying on command.” He started chopping the onion while Crowley stared at him, incredulous. “Let it out. If you need help, try to think of something you’ve lost.”

“The point of this roleplay,” sniffed Crowley.

“Good, good, now don’t you feel better with a few tears out? I’ve got a handkerchief here, go ahead and blow.”

“There was something else I was planning on blowing today,” said Crowley.

“No need to be vulgar. The doctor’s office is a place you can be totally honest.”

“Ok, Angel. Total honesty? I don’t want you to be a doctor anymore,” said Crowley, stopping this train before it went further off the rails.

Aziraphale straighten up, and put down the onion. “Oh dear. This got rather away from us, didn’t it?” he said.

“Yeah, I think so, Angel,” said Crowley, “Don’t feel bad, there must be something here that we just didn’t get. Let’s go back to the drawing board. What’s next on the list?”

“Let me check… Oh dear. We might want to skip this one after what just happened,” said Aziraphale pulling up the list and glancing at the onion.

“Why? What’s next on the list?” said Crowley.

“Food play.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is all the Ace Good Omens server's fault. They gave me the ideas and made me write this.
> 
> I reread The Sawbones Book for this. If you like medical history, I can't recommend it enough!


End file.
